


Maternal Instincts

by citizenjess (givehimonemore)



Category: X-Men (Comicverse)
Genre: Baby Mutants, Babysitting, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-31
Updated: 2011-12-31
Packaged: 2017-10-28 14:52:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,343
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/309035
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/givehimonemore/pseuds/citizenjess
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Charles reluctantly babysits the infantilized Erik for a weekend while Moira attends a genetics conference.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Maternal Instincts

**Author's Note:**

> A while back, I wrote "Muir Island Is No Good For You," about Charles visiting Moira and Erik on Muir Island during the same span of time (in comics 'verse, natch); it's not necessary to read that to understand this, but just in case you want to see what else has been canvassed in the baby!Erik 'verse, there it is. P.S.: The African fairy tale about the eagle and the tortoise is actually an "X-Men" comic book, and the animals-in-question are very much meant to be representative of Magneto and Charles. I was kind of tickled to be able to shoehorn it into this story.

"Are you sure you can't take him with you?" Charles asks for what is probably the hundredth time since Moira MacTaggert told him that she would be leaving the country for a genetics conference for the weekend, and the recently-infantilized Erik Lehnsherr would be staying at his school for the duration of her trip.

Moira's mannerisms are brisk as she begins to stockpile supplies for an abnormally-quick-growing toddler who happens to be able to manipulate metal around Charles' study. He watches her in silent dismay, eventually glancing down at Erik himself, who barely reaches Charles' knee. A shock of soft-looking white hair covers his head in ringlets, and his blue eyes watch the older man intently. He is, Charles decides, an odd child.

Finally, Moira is finished, and Charles worries how he's going to be able to move around safely with all of Erik's toys and such taking up so much floor space. Desperately, he uses this as a last-ditch attempt to get Moira to have a change of heart: "You know, with Logan and Jean and Scott taking the students on their overnight outing, I'm not particularly the best person to have a baby under my care. You're certain there isn't a childcare facility at the conference?"

Moira smirks and pats him a bit condescendingly on the head. "Sorry, Charlie," she says brightly. "It's absolutely an adults-only function. Also, I'm pretty sure Erik will be better off here than he would with - dare I say it - humans. You know what he needs."

"Right," Charles mutters, but Moira seems to be impervious to his bad mood. He watches her give Erik a quick hug - the boy does not return the favor, but continues standing scant feet away, staring at Charles - and sighs when she blows him a kiss. "Safe trip," he tells her begrudgingly.

Moira grins. "Have a good time with the professor, Erik," she says, laughing a bit, and then she's gone.

Charles sighs again. Then he looks at Erik: "Well, Erik, I suppose it's just you and me for a couple of days, then, isn't it?" The boy just blinks at him.

*

Initially, Charles had planned to use a weekend without students clamoring for his attention to catch up on paperwork of various sorts. In truth, he had had it planned out in his mental calendar for weeks. Then Moira had demanded that he keep Erik company so she could remember briefly what it felt like to have a career, and he had reluctantly acquiesced.

The mansion isn't really equipped for babies or very young children. Charles generally takes in mutants whose powers manifest around the age of puberty, and even as a child himself, he had been fairly self-sufficient; his step-brother, too, had not lived in the Xavier home until well after issues like potty training and tying his own shoes had been resolved. Moreover, the prospect of being a babysitter seems vaguely distasteful to the professor; he supposes, given his own mother's cool demeanor when it had come to showing him affection, he doesn't have much in the way of a maternal - or paternal - instinct.

At first, this seems like it'll work out well enough; from the way Moira always described Erik's behavior on Muir Island, he's a quiet child whom she generally had to go looking for. He rarely needed, or seemed to want, her attention or affection. Thus, Charles assumes that the boy will make his own entertainment. He makes sure some of his toddler toys, all adorned with small bits of metal, in case Erik wants to try and use his mutation, are set out, and tucks into his work.

"Ah." The small sound after several minutes of only light shuffling surprises him. Looking up, Charles finds that Erik has moved much closer to him, nearly able to reach out and touch the arm of Charles' chair. "Ah," Erik says again, and Charles can see that he's holding one of his toys, a car that Charles is relieved to see has few small, removable, moving parts.

"Well, hello," Charles says. Erik continues to study him, and Charles tries not to be unnerved by his intensity. "Would you like to sit up here with me?" he asks. Erik doesn't clamor for him or anything, but he doesn't pull away either; soon enough, he's sitting atop Charles' lap, and Charles figures out a comfortable enough position for his arms to be able to both wrap a little around the boy for leverage and also to continue working through his paperwork. He's making notes in his neat scrawl when all of the sudden, his pen jerks. It happens again, and Charles realizes that it's Erik's doing. He glances down at the boy, whose small face is pinched in concentration. "Erik, do you know what you're doing?" he asks, bemused and a little awed.

Erik doesn't respond, of course, but continues to tug at the pen, until it floats scantly above Charles' fingers, and then, finally, clatters onto the desk. "Good job, Erik. Try again," Charles coaxes. A few seconds later, Erik does just that. This time, the pen rises a good foot or two above the desk and hovers for several seconds before falling into Charles' waiting palm. "Try this, Erik," Charles urges a bit excitedly, prying the car toy from Erik's small fingers and placing it on the wooden surface. He watches Erik hold out a small hand, shakily uncurling his fist. The car moves forward an inch or so, and then the back end lifts off of the desk, and then falls back onto the flat surface. "Ock," Erik mumbles, and Charles thinks he looks tired. He reaches around and gives the boy a quick hug, his chin resting briefly atop Erik's feathery hair. "That's so good, Erik. You did a very good job."

He's not sure, but he thinks that Erik smiles.

*

The diaper-changing is not unexpected, though Charles tries to put it off as long as he can. However, after a lunch of innocuous-looking food in a jar - Charles vows to find something more substantial for the boy to eat in the mansion, because he suspects from the way Erik reluctantly gulps it down that it's not something he particularly enjoys, either; it's neither his nor Moira's fault that he's growing up several times faster than an average child, of course, but still - and some soft, rare whining and shuffling from the boy, a diaper change appears to be inevitable.

Moira brought a folding table for just this purpose along with all of Erik's other supplies, and Erik allows Charles to lift him onto it with little fanfare. Charles schools his face to remain impassive and non-threatening, in spite of the smell; when he finally takes down Erik's pants and opens his diaper, however, he can't help but make a small gagging sound. "Oh my God," he gasps, and smiles at Erik disarmingly through slightly gritted teeth. "I don't think you're digesting the jar food terribly well either," he tells the boy, and then sighs and tucks into the task at hand.

When he's finished, he sets Erik on the ground, and the boy immediately begins playing with his toy car, happy anew. Charles takes the opportunity to wheel himself into the bathroom, where he proceeds to wash his hands repeatedly, and wonders how long it will take to get the smell of soiled diaper out of his study.

*

For Erik's bed, Charles pulls out a futon in his study out into a flat, padded surface; it would have been difficult for Moira to drag the crib he's been using on Muir Island to the mansion, and Charles suspects that, with Erik's quick growth, it's probably not very comfortable for him anymore, anyways. He loads the mattress carefully with blankets and a bear that he finds tucked in with the boy's things, and sets about getting Erik changed into some pajamas.

When Erik is swaddled in blankets and lying in the middle of the futon, his head pillowed against a soft, dark-colored sham, Charles looks him over. "You're a good boy, Erik," he murmurs, placing a comforting hand on the boy's forehead. "I do miss being able to have some of our conversations, though." The boy's eyes are half-lidded, but he appears to be stubbornly fighting sleep. Suddenly, Charles has an idea. "Would you like me to read you a story?" he asks, and then wheels himself over to one of the room's bookcases. There isn't much that a toddler would care about, he starts to think, and then, there: Storm had brought it back from a vacation to Africa for him. It's a beautiful, hardcover tome, and contains dozens of illustrated African fairy tales. It'll have to do, Charles decides.

Paging through the book, Charles eventually finds the story he's looking for, and comes to sit once again at Erik's side. "'This is a story about an eagle and a tortoise ...'" he begins to read. By the time he's finished reciting the tale, Erik is sound asleep, his chest rising and falling evenly. Charles watches him for several minutes before shutting off the light and retiring to the room next door. He leaves the door open and takes the baby monitor supplied by Moira along with him, in case Erik should have need for him during the night.

*

The good news, Charles decides, is that Erik sleeps through the night. The bad news is, it's his latest full diaper that wakes him up. The boy is particularly aggrieved, and after surveying the mess, Charles decides that Erik needs an outright bath. Also, he's going to have to wash Erik's bedding.

It'd be easiest on Erik to bathe in the tub (which Charles can't reach without climbing out of his chair and kneeling on his comatose legs), rather than in the sink (which Charles can reach in his chair, but not well). Fortunately, by the time he comes down the lift, a surly Erik in tow, he stumbles upon a third option.

Erik seems to take a liking to Jean, and the red-haired young woman seems pleased enough to help the professor out and also prattle about the X-Men's latest recreational outing. "Let's just wash your hair now, Erik," she coos, and Charles watches them, smiling. "He can probably stomach some steamed vegetables a little better than that jar stuff," Jean notes, continuing her spiel of lightly critiquing Charles' child-rearing habits. "And make sure he's getting enough to drink, but probably not anything right before bed ..."

Charles pastes on his best disarming smile and places his hand on Jean's shoulder. She looks up at him and blinks. "Jean, would you like a job?" he asks her, but she just smiles and shakes her head.

"Can't. Lots of training to coordinate. 'Fraid you're on your own, Professor." Jean finishes bathing Erik and drains the tub, and then wraps the boy in a large, fluffy, white towel and hands him to Charles. "Good luck!" she chirps, and Charles stifles a sigh, watching her leave, taking her seemingly inborn ability to care for children with her.

"Thanks." Lightly, he rubs the towel over Erik's head. The boy blinks wide eyes at him, and Charles can't resist cuddling him a little. Finally, he begins wheeling towards the door, one hand on the arm remote of his chair, the other wrapped securely around Erik. "Let's get you dressed and have some breakfast, shall we?" he asks, and takes Erik's silence as agreement.

*

He's searching in the refrigerator for some orange juice when it happens. He sees the large, metal spoon raising miniscule inches in the air out of the corner of his eye, but before he can get out a "no, Erik, don't touch that, it's hot," Erik is reaching out, grasping the part of the utensil that has been touching 350-degree stove for several minutes, ... and screams.

"Erik!" Charles exclaims, and immediately abandons his task in favor of scooping up the little boy. Erik is sobbing loudly, tears pouring down his face, and he looks wounded and afraid. He clutches at Charles with his non-injured hand, and presses his small face into Charles' chest. Charles cradles him, feeling desperate and completely out of his league. "Erik, I'm so sorry. Let's find some burn ointment. It will make your hand feel better. We'll make this better, Erik, all right?" Naturally, the boy doesn't respond, but as Charles brings him to the bathroom and begins rinsing his hand, and then salving it and wrapping it delicately in a bandage, Erik begins to settle down. Charles notices that he keeps his injured limb curled close to himself afterwards. He spends several minutes just holding the boy, rocking him and murmuring things near his ear. He's sure he sounds ridiculous, but it seems to help. Eventually, the tear tracks have dried on Erik's face, and he turns his tiny face upwards, his expression pleasant enough.

"Everything will be all right, Erik." Charles presses a kiss to the child's forehead, and then whispers against it. "You're safe with me. I promise you that."

*

He checks Erik's hand several times throughout the course of the day; the small, red mark near the juncture of his thumb and forefinger will probably scar over, Charles decides ruefully, but other than that, it will heal just fine.

Word of Erik's presence at the mansion gets around fairly quickly; by afternoon, Charles has set up a makeshift office for himself in the main area of the house, watching as several of the young, female students coo and fawn over the boy. "Erik, do you want your teddy?" one asks, while another plies for his attention by holding up his favored toy car.

Late in the day, Logan joins him for a cup of tea (his) and a beer (decidedly not his), pulled from Logan's carefully hidden secret stash of booze. "So, Moira saddled you with the kid, huh?" he snorts, and Charles smiles. "She's sure got you whipped," Logan ribs him.

Charles chuckles. "I suppose she deserves a reprieve once in a while. It's not as if we're sharing joint custody on an actual child of ours. This isn't her fault any more than it's mine, or Erik's, for that matter." He glances quickly at Erik, who is now floating his car again, eliciting giggles from his group of admirers, and then looks back at Logan. "Perhaps I'm asking for too much from her."

Logan drains the can of beer and burps softly. "Look on the bright side," he says encouragingly. "If you started taking in mutant babies, there'd be a whole slew of new classes at the school: Mutant home economics; mutant diaper-changing ..."

"I've already had enough of the latter to last me a lifetime, thanks," Charles laughs.

Logan's nose sniffs the air dubiously. "Well, don't look now, but you may be having an encore performance soon enough," he entreats, and Charles groans. Standing, Logan spears the beer can on his adamantium claws, dribbling a couple droplets of liquid on the table, which he hastily wipes off. "Sorry," he mutters, and then claps Charles on the back. "Good luck, Chuck," he adds, and Charles rolls his eyes good-naturedly. Then he spends several minutes considering how best to 'convince' Erik's gaggle of admirers that they, in fact, would love to change the baby Master of Magnetism's diaper, so he doesn't have to.

*

Moira arrives at the mansion to collect Erik on Monday afternoon. Charles tries to convince Erik that he wants to float his car for Moira, but the boy simply frowns at him. As an afterthought, he tucks the book of African fairy tales into Erik's supplies, alongside his teddy. "We'll talk later about upgrading his food and bed situation," Charles remarks casually. "And, er, perhaps about getting him properly potty-trained." When he shows Moira the healing mark on Erik's hand, she teases him for several minutes ("now you know how I feel whenever he makes to eat the batteries out of the remote control").

Moira smiles at him, pushing a lock of hair behind her ear. "Sounds like you two had a productive weekend together," she responds. "Perhaps this should be a semi-regular thing."

Charles shakes his head. "I think you're better equipped in that department," he says, and Moira whacks him in the shoulder.

"Is that because I'm a woman, Charles Xavier? Because I'll have you know -"

"No, no," Charles says quickly, and is relieved to see Moira laughing. "I just meant that you've obviously done a remarkable job of dealing with such an extraordinary circumstance. I admire you for that. I admire you for many things," he tells her, and is gratified to see her blush.

"Always the charmer." Before she leaves, she kisses Charles on the cheek, and then proffers Erik. "Say goodbye to Charles, Erik," she tells the boy. He says nothing, but whines a little until Moira places him fully in Charles' lap.

Charles stares down at the little boy, a strange tightening in his chest. "Goodbye, Erik," he says softly, and gives the child a quick hug and a kiss on the forehead. "I'll see you soon, I'm sure. Be good for Moira. Don't touch any more hot things."

Moira chuckles and removes Erik from his grasp carefully. "You'd be a good father, Charles," she tells him, and he rolls his eyes.

"Yes, yes. Let's just shelve that conversation for twenty more years or so, shall we?" When Erik is gone, however, Charles realizes that the study feels strangely empty in his absence. When he wheels himself over to his desk, the pen that Erik managed to float sits atop a stack of papers. Smiling, Charles picks it up, holds it for a couple of seconds between his fingers, and then depresses the top with his thumb and gets to work.

*

When Erik is restored to his full self by a third party bent on humanity's destruction, Charles knows it's only a matter of time before his old friend seeks him out, demanding answers and, quite possibly, revenge. Sure enough, when Erik finds him, he's furious, and Charles chokes a bit as the other man pins him to his own wall by the various bits of metal on his person, his limbs spread not of his own accord. Seeing his discomfort, Erik, nee Magneto, releases the death grip on Charles' throat a little, and Charles sucks in air with relief.

"Safe? You thought I would be safe as yours and that MacTaggert woman's puppet?" Erik is ranting, and his hand is stretched out, palm facing Charles' chest. His fingers are spread wide, and though it's not Charles' intention, his eyes immediately seek out what he wonders is still there. Magneto's hands are gloved, but he notices the eventually tiny smile gracing Charles' face and blinks. "What?" he rasps.

"Nothing. It just, your hand ..." Charles trails off, and then shrugs. "I was just wondering whether it was still there. From the kitchen, I mean."

Slowly, realization dawns on Magneto. He tugs the glove on his right hand off, and flexes his hand. Sure enough, in the juncture between his thumb and forefinger, there is a small, red mark. "Do mutantkind a favor, Charles, and don't ever have kids," Magneto retorts, but his eyes bely his amusement.

Charles' chuckles softly. "To be fair, you weren't the easiest child to raise."

Begrudgingly, Magneto lowers the professor gradually back into his own wheelchair. "I still deserve answers," he insinuates, and Charles quickly assures him that he'll tell him everything he knows about the nature of Erik's de-aging. Somewhat satisfied-looking, the newly-restored Master of Magnetism relaxes a little. "I suppose you want this back," he murmurs, and then, to Charles' surprise, produces a small book seemingly from the folds of his cape. "I liked the one about the eagle and the tortoise," Erik admits.

Charles accepts the book and smiles. "I knew you would," he says, and then invites his oldest friend and greatest enemy to sit down so he can try to make things right.


End file.
